What It Tastes Like
by TraceZBullet
Summary: Jack Elizabeth. Jack finally gives in to his curiosity. Oneshot most likely


**a/n: This is my first POTC fic, most likely a one shot and also very smutty. I hope you guys like it and please review! **

What It Tastes Like

Truth was, Jack Sparrow did want to know exactly what she tasted like. And with her standing so damn close, he was pretty sure he'd find out in short order, too. He stood, stroking her cheek gently, while the ship rolled beneath their feet. She was all too close for her own good. It was a good thing brave Mister Turner was quite wrapped up with Davy Jones and far off across the ocean. Elizabeth's hair felt softer than his worn hat under his fingertips. With the way she looked at him from beneath such lashes, it was a wonder he hadn't pushed her to the deck and taken her already. The rings on his fingers glinted in the setting sunlight as he leaned so close that her breath caressed his skin, and a mere dip of his head would bring their lips together. "Well?" she asked. Her voice was a hot, sultry whisper.

Did she want him or not? She hadn't quite yet decided.

The loose blouse she was wearing was just woven thick enough to leave some to Jack's fertile imagination. The hot wind blew through and touched her easily though. One sleeve had slid down and her bared shoulder quivered under his hot right hand.

With gentleness and restraint that surprised them both, he stroked the tanned skin of her neck with his thumb. Soft down ticked his callused fingers. The tang of the salty ocean air and the rush of the sea as it churned beneath their feet made them giddy. Elizabeth leaned just a little closer until his furred chin rubbed hers. Their lips rested together. And then, in a rough, needy movement, Jack pulled her against him and slid his tongue into her mouth and tasted her. She tasted of woman and salt and sunshine, of warmth and pears he'd bartered for in Tortuga, so sweet they were almost over ripe.

She shuddered as his broad, muscled chest crashed against hers. Did he feel the hardening of her nipples through the thin clothing that separated them? Her mouth also tasted of sweet rum and something musky and delicious that he could not name. Dimly, he would recollect later that the crew had ever so intelligently retreated below decks with surprising discretion.

It didn't matter any way. The way it felt to be kissing her fiercely, with the buzz of rum in his veins and the press of a certain need, he would have taken her in front of all of them. Wouldn't that have given them something to mutter about. "Sure, the _captain _gets his share of the soon-to-be Mrs. Turner. What about the likes of us?" they'd say. He smiled at his private joke but quit as he caught the cinnamon scent of her neck. She arched when he kissed her there. His hands roamed under her shirt and rested, burning, on her hips. Somehow, it didn't surprise him that she wasn't wearing the proper lady's underclothing, whatever the names for them were.

Cloth was hurriedly ripped away. "That was my good shirt, Love," he quipped, between gasped breaths.

She smirked rather roguishly and her light blouse flapped in the sea breeze.

He suspected, after being roughly relieved of his shirt by desperate female hands, that she had elected not to wear much in the way of clothing for much the same reason as he: accessibility. Her hands then flittered like birds all over his chest and back and down to his waist where, with a flick of her wrist, his scabbard clattered to the polished wooden deck. She shoved him down after it, his lips attached to her graceful jaw line. He gave her blouse the same treatment with hands clumsy with desire. It tore away loudly.

Her skin tasted sweaty and sweet under his warm tongue. After a few gentle flicks, she bucked above him and her arms gave out. Once more, she crashed against him and his mouth returned to her soft lips. They desperately kicked off their boots and Elizabeth slid fluidly out of her pants. Jack could hardly believe his luck. Miss Elizabeth Swann, lovely and proper, was on top of him with her soft long hair brushing his bare chest-- naked save a pirate's hat.

The heated black pools of her eyes urged him on as she rubbed her hips against his. He closed his eyes in ecstasy and moaned. His hands tightened on her buttocks. His breaths came just a little harder as she leaned forward and nipped his lower lip gently with her teeth. She slid her hands under his waistband and all it took was a gentle squeeze to consume him in a flash of white. He groaned again and whispered in a husky warning, "Easy on the goods, Love." Though, the last thing he wanted her to do was stop.

She couldn't have even if she had wanted to. She was much too far gone. It took her a second to realize the harsh gasps that echoed across the empty deck were coming from her own mouth. Not that it mattered. There was no one, save Jack, to hear her. And to think, a year ago, the thought of being alone with him had repulsed her beyond measure.

Her breaths came hot and quick, almost pained with need. It sent him shivering and his thumbs stopped their gentle circular motions on her neck. "Come on, Captain," Elizabeth urged in the same desire-filled voice. He almost whimpered in disappointment when she removed her hands from where they had been _occupied _when he realized he was missing his pants. They shared a devilish grin before, without ceremony, he pushed up and into the woman he most wanted in the entire world.

It brought a devilish smile to his lips when she screamed so loudly, they probably heard in the brig. And they were just getting started. Elizabeth clutched his ringed hands tightly, to keep herself from crying out again. Something between pain and joy made her whimper as he attacked her again, touching, kissing, almost forcefully taking her in a way that meant she was _his_. Never had she felt so filled, so whole, so complete from the simple act of making love. Her eyes cast up, for a second, to the stars and pain flashed red behind her eyes. Still, she could not stop. She had needed him for too long to stop. Sweat streamed off of both of them, even in the darkening air. Lantern light flashed across their slickened skin.

Her mouth rained down on his, her kisses were like blows. The rough hair of his beard-- pirate's fur, he called it-- made her cheeks burn but she didn't care, certainly not with him inside of her, feeling like a red hot poker. Jack tasted of any number of things she used to find despicable-- rum and cigar smoke and sweat and dried meat-- but found driving her mad with want now, as he filled her.

It amazed him how smooth she was, like silk inside and out. In wonderment, he reverently stroked the smooth, pale skin of her abdomen with one rough hand. It was with some satisfaction that he dimly noted she quivered under his touch. She was so different from the whores in Tortuga who, smelling of drunk men, didn't even bother to clip the hairs on their legs or wash their long, lank curls. Elizabeth flicked her tongue gently against his lower lip. She may as well have set off one of the cannons. Stars flashed behind his blackened eyes. Thought ceased. He violently pushed himself deeper into her, still stroking her skin with his hands; she quietly gasped his name.

The ship rocked and he rolled her over, pinning her naked, pliant body beneath his. "Oh Jack," she whimpered and the wail left her lips and raced into the night. Violently, his mouth assaulted hers and he clutched her, still thrusting so hard he almost worried he'd break her. She had no such qualms as she clasped her legs over his ass and pulled him tightly against her one last explosive time. Her nails sent flashes of muted pain behind his eyes as her hands clawed desperately for purchase and they crashed together, hearts galloping. Elizabeth shrieked, a high keening, in pain and release and joy. Jack shuddered as he held her body.

It was a strange and lovely song that escaped from her lips and rang into the pitch-black night where water melded with sky. Her voice reminded him oddly of the wail of a crooning flute and the feral call of need and loneliness of a wild dog in heat. Hungry and satisfied at the same time. Her voice was filled with a black emptiness, so unreachable, so impossible to fill, yet he yearned to hold her closer and let her know she was safe. He felt her petal-soft lips brush on his hot neck and she shook above him. It was through a pleasure-dampened fog that he heard her but it still sent a trickle of ice into his heart.

Her sob was almost too quiet to hear.


End file.
